Exalted
by Ccw
Summary: A new series by Ccw. The Path of the Gunslinger. The all encompassing agency, The Coalition. Let the uprising begin. And this is how the world ends.
1. Prologue

My new series. Thanks for reading, and be sure to review if you can! I'm posting Chapter one too!

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Disclaimers: I do not own anything in this story that is affiliated with Maplestory.

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"Do you like being toyed with?" The voice echoed softly, the words sticking in Tuore's mind.

Tuore glanced around at his surroundings. He was completely encompassed in darkness, leaving him entirely defenseless.

"Answer the question!" The voice roared in blind fury, the sound waves reverberating off Tuore's skull. He barely flinched.

Tuore glared at the indistinct figure, and flashed the finger. He didn't care if it could be seen; he was allowing his disrespect free rein. "Make me, asshole." He spoke with a daring smirk, not bothering to suppress the raging ire that burned within him.

"What happened to your manners?" Tuore had barely enough time to absorb what the man had said before a gauntlet suddenly collided with his jaw, the raw power sending Tuore brutally crashing into the ground.

"I thought me and your mother taught you to treat your elders with more respect. Was I really that much of a bad teacher?" It sounded out again, that voice that stroke hatred in his soul. It reeked of mock kindness, something that Tuore abhorred, especially coming from a man like that.

Tuore lay sprawled over the cold marble floor, immense pain emitted by his jaw. The brute force must have wrenched it out of place. He felt the strong taste of copper splashed over his entire mouth, and wiped his mouth only to see crimson streaked across the back of his hand.

The man approached, his boots squeaking noisily against the smooth –as-glass floor. With each step he took, the distance between them closened, and Tuore's rage grew.

"Fuck. You." Tuore's vision was spinning, but he managed to muster enough self control to viciously spit at him. Vicariously, he took pride in imagining the small degree of displeasure he must have brought to the bastard.

Red specks of blood decorated the sleek Dark Crescent Boots that the man was wearing. Tuore felt himself being picked up by the tall figure; Tuore felt his muscles tense as he prepared for a counter-attack against the man.

Tuore was roughly grabbed by the neck of his Blue One-lined T-shirt, the material straining in the iron grip of the man. He could feel the dense and heavy Blue Dragon Gauntlet wielded by the man- with a shimmering polish- press deeply into his chest. The titanium material threatened to break his bones.

Tuore's hands balled up into compact fists, tiny hands that shook violently with fury. His eyes uncontrollably swelled up with tears- those glistening drops of sadness clung to his short eyelashes, unwilling to abandon their hope for the redemption of joy. Whether it was caused by pure vehemence or a complete loss of emotional control, even Tuore did not know for sure. Whatever did he do to deserve such treatment?

With a cry that was somewhere between a yelp of emotional pain and a ferocious call of battle, Tuore gathered his guts and slammed his fist into the sturdy chest-plate of the man- a custom designed Blue Neos. Tuore's fist- being one of an eight year old's- collided with the Blue Neos, resulting in a dull "thump".

Unfazed, Tuore landed blow after blow, his miniature fist striking the Blue Neos again and again. Tears streamed down his oval face, and he relentlessly struggled against the odds, pummeling the man that he hated so much. An idiot would know that he was wasting his time- the Blue Neos was one of the most, if not, the most powerful armour that was known in existence. It was reinforced with multiple layers of cushioning and metallic alloys that were enchanted with arcane magic to keep in place. A mere eight year old's puny fist had a snowball's chance in hell of even damaging it.

And yet, Tuore held on, as steadfast as when he had started. He repeatedly bashed his fist against the impenetrable wall, blood was now steadily tricking from his knuckles and soon they would be shattered, but not his spirit…

Lightning quick, the man slugged Tuore across the face, hard. Tuore was caught off guard. Tears of anguish flew into the air, gently falling unto the bitter chilly marble. The man followed up with a swift, effective blow to Tuore's stomach, forcefully robbing Tuore of whatever breath he had lingering in him. Tuore's eyes bulged in their sockets as the pain overwhelmed the limits of self-control that he could muster.

He recognised the immediate numbness that invaded him like a virulent virus, felt his body lose its tension as he shuddered due to his suffering. Black spots started to interrupt his vision, flashing in and out. He was blacking out.

"Why must you torture me like this? You've spent the last few years hurting me." The mask of hatred that had possessed him like a fiery ilfrit had cracked ever so slightly, revealing the fragile soul of an eight year old. He gazed at the man that was his father, his expression full of sorrow and hurt.

"Because." His father was expressionless.

"Why? I hate you!" Tuore exhausted the last remnants of his consciousness by utilizing it in a tormented scream.

"Then hate me. Fear me, hunt me, hate me."

The last thing Tuore saw before he blacked out was a crooked grin on the Paladin's mouth. But why? Weren't white knights supposed to help the world? Wasn't it one of the truths of the world?

He finally embraced the all-consuming black, his mind clinging on to those thoughts.

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Thats all for the prologue. Chapter 1 coming up!

Cya guys.

Sincerly,

Ccw


	2. The Gunslinger

The special bonus offer haha. Chapter 1, The Gunslinger is up together with the Prologue! Have fun guys.

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Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is affiliated with Maplestory or Wizet.

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The glaring light of the day merrily shone on the world of Maple. Citizens smiled happily at each other, blissfully living their life in harmony. All was well in the island of Victoria.

Tuore awoke. He opened his eyes ever so slightly, letting the light of day wink at him conspiratorially. That's what it all was. A conspiracy for waking him up.

Tuore ruffled his hair, feeling the thick hair clump together- stubbornly refusing to separate itself. Tuore groaned, mumbling something about having to get a shampoo that actually delivered on its promises of silky smooth and no split ends.

A butt-ugly crow landed on a nearby tree, cawing away. "Damnit." Tuore swore, hastily cupping his ears against the horrid screeches. Tuore rolled around on the ground comically, trying to get back to sleep.

Time ticked by slowly, and the foul crow continued relentlessly, pelting Tuore with its terrible noises. Tuore sighed, covering his eyes with his left hand, signaling a sign of helplessness. Just what was needed to ruin his morning.

There was a single gunshot, and the crow plummeted to the ground, softly collapsing unto the thick grass. It had been completely unaware of the danger it was in, and within a flash Tuore had put it out of its misery.

Smoke slowly drifted out of the long barrel of Tuore's revolver, with Tuore still lying on the ground. He grudgingly got onto his feet, feeling his joints ache in protest. His Ruby-red Toymaker's Cape rose behind him, the edges of it frayed and crumpled.

At age 19, Tuore was quite a sight. Standing at a total height of about a hundred and eighty centimeres, auburn brown hair hung around his head untidily, and a pair of listless green eyes drooped out from under his moderately thick eyebrows. A His lips were constantly pursed, giving one the impression that he was deep in thought, while actually Tuore's thoughts were usually drifting off to finding treasure to splurge on his hobby- stamp collecting. A pirate collecting stamps- the proud founders of the pirate class would be rolling over in their graves at such inappropriateness.

He was level forty-nine, donning a tattered old Red Royal Misty upon his forehead- the once vivid red and white stripes had almost been converted to a dirty brown-, a couple of oversized Brown Rain gloves that drooped clumsily over his wrists, and a duo of gleaming new Brown Leather Crags that he had bought yesterday at a yard sale. Tuore chose to wear a comfortable Blue Brace, which was dusty and dull due to the sands of time, over the Red Hemp Cloth armour of level forty, because the latter was simply hideous. Although it provided an increase in bodily protection, it was simply _hideous_. Personally, Tuore thought that whoever who created the armour should have fried in hell the moment the designs were complete, and he thought he made that point by refusing to purchase such an item. The Toymaker Cape, which he also cheekily snagged at the same yard sale, was also new, and together with the Brown Leather Crags created juxtaposition against the older equipment that Tuore wore.

Now that Tuore actually started thinking about his equipment, last night's events started prodding him in the head. He had gone to a yard sale at Ellinia, and had a long fight over housewives when he was buying the items. Their argument was that they needed it for their kid's costume party, while he needed it because he was actually living out what the kid was dressing as; as he rather bluntly put it- pimpin the hoes.

He lost the argument, and had to run all the way from Ellinia while enduring blows from their umbrellas. "Geez, you would've thought that they would hit softer." Tuore had remarked unhappily, running his hadn along his bruises in an attempt to soothe the lingering pain.

He slowly strided over to the crow while reloading his revolver, painfully aware of the aches in his bare bones. He would have to recall how he got them later. Meanwhile, he squatted down, inspecting the still-breathing body of the crow.

The Invisible Shot he had previously fired was true to its aim- flying and shattering the beak of the crow. Tuore grinned impishly, before taking his leave, cape flapping majestically in the wind. It wouldn't be cawing properly for a long time.

Tuore made his way through the jungle of Ellinia, passing the beautiful fauna and flora that made Ellinia famous. Another night, another memory. In fact, the memory was more of a nightmare- a grim reminder of his childhood. He had only been eight back then.

Unintentionally, Tuore unholstered his revolver, spinning and twirling it had become a rather bad habit, something that Tuore had been accustomed to doing when he was either deep in thought or letting his mind wander off. His gaze turned to the revolver that he loved so much, _Razer_. Razer had been custom-created for him by a shady merchant, a non-committal fee had been paid and yet his gamble had paid off.

Razor, to put in simple words, was vastly superior to the other guns that were mass produced. It functioned as both a single action and a double action revolver, which meant that Tuore could choose whether he wanted to prioritise damage per second (DPS) or accuracy by either firing with or without the hammer.

Razor's primary colours were deep arsenic black that seemed to seep into the titanium alloy that held it together, and stunning scarlet highlights over it. A simplified symbol of a Minotaur was proudly etched into both sides of the gun barrel, giving it an air of power. It was instead coloured an elegant Islamic green, a contrast in itself because Islamic green was meant to symbolize paradise, while the Minotaur itself represented chaos and confusion.

The anatomy of Razor was extremely unique, as being a hand-crafted work of art, bore parts that were different to normal caliber revolvers. The cylinder was specially modified and improved such that there were various miniature springs lying inside to aid it in the clockwise motion; resulting in facilitation of the reloading function. This helped Tuore reload Razor more efficiently.

The grip consisted of a fusion of mostly leather and bits of rubber at the places of contact with Razor's fingers. Rubber was essential to the proper functioning of the handle due to the fact that it provided a certain degree of traction. Meanwhile, leather could not be compromised, because it provided durability and was of course long lasting, qualities that rubber lacked.

The gun barrel of Razor stretched to a grand length of 12 inches, the maximum length it could go before having to compromise on accuracy for power. Any longer, and the revolver would have border lined on looking ridiculous.

Of course, there were various other minor improvements that were added, but they were too numerous to be actually counted and remembered. An inexplicably wide smile formed itself on Tuore's lips as he recalled the disreputable merchant insisting that Razor had been his finest work to date. After spending so much time with Razor, Tuore knew that he had not been lying.

Tuore finally decided to give his habit a rest, holstering his weapon; not before he mocked firing a shot into the sky though.

As he made his way through the flourishing greenery of Ellinia, Tuore took special care to enjoy the peacefulness and serenity that only Ellinia could offer. It was the absolute best place to meditate, because it offered the perfect environment for one to be at peace- lush flora and lively fauna that helped to calm one's spirit.

As a travelling vagabond, Tuore led a carefree lifestyle. He roamed the lands of Maple, aimlessly exploring and experiencing new sensations. Tuore thoroughly enjoyed the way he lived, an unburdened life exempt from any imprecations or responsibilities.

After the hardships he had suffered under his father, he needed a break. The nightmares of the torture that he had suffered never actually left him. Tuore suppressed those thoughts during the day, but in the night they came back to haunt him in his dreams, never letting him forget the agony he endured when he was just a child.

"It was for a good cause." His father had mentioned. But what earth-shattering cause could possibly justify his actions?

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She rushed down the corridor of Kerning's Niora hospital, her white doctor's cloak drifting gracefully behind her. A tiny patch of almost unnoticeable pinkish freckles decorated the side of her right cheek- just clinging above her right cheekbone. Her picture perfect white teeth- like the ones commonly seen on models and actresses-, bit into lips that were richly covered with thick red lipstick. She walked with an air of confidence, her high heels treading on the ground firmly. She was not happy at all.

Pivoting on her right foot, she expertly navigated the sharp right corner turn. It came as no surprise, considering the sheer amount of time she invested into her career in the hospital. Nurses ducked into the sides when she passed them, doctors leapt out of the way and into stationery carts that were carelessly left lying around, and Mr Nojay- the hospital's most elderly client who had been hospitalized for 20 years- hurriedly hobbled on his walking stick so as to not block her. After all, when she was not happy, shit would hit the fan.

Rounding the corner, she reached her destination, a rather plain-looking wooden door with the words "_Head Officer_". She burst into the office, not bothering to knock beforehand. The poor manager inside was caught completely off-guard- he immediately spun around in his comfortable leather armchair, hastily trying to hide his dirty magazine.

"I have something important to announce." Her indifferent stare pierced him.

"Just a second…" He was like a deer being caught in headlights, desperately looking for a place to stash his magazine. After about five seconds of searching, he gave up and in his frustration, slammed the magazine against the mahogany desk table. She could've sworn that he was whimpering slightly.

"I've come to tender my resignation." She stated in a matter-of-factly manner.

"What in the world?" He spluttered out, losing his balance but somehow managing not to fall over. He took a brief second to regain his composure while she tapped her feet uncomfortably.

"You can't leave. You're only 18, and you have a great future here!" The manager was now on his feet. "I'm your boss, and I say that you can't leave! I repeat, Syelle Deviato, you are remaining as a member of this hospital staff!"

Syelle took a moment to inspect the man. She felt sorry for his insecure attitude towards life, towards work, towards anything that mattered.

"Goodbye." Syelle slipped him a neatly folded letter with the words "Resignation" written in bold. She briskly pivoted a hundred and eighty degrees, and walked away from him.

"You can't leave! You can't lea-" The officer inelegantly chased after her, clumsily tripping over his feet in the process. He crashed comically into the squeaky clean hospital floor, his left elbow viciously scraping the floor. Syelle shot him a quick glance, only to see that he was sprawled over the floor, with crimson droplets steadily trickling down his newly acquired wound.

Syelle groaned exasperatedly. He was so bothersome. She quickly whipped out her wand- a well maintained Fairy Wand that winked in the sunlight- from the coat-tail.

"Heal." She commanded, as soothing green magic sprouted from the Fairy Wand and unto the fresh wound of the officer. It was a matter of seconds before the wounds stitched themselves back together, and he was left gawking awkwardly at her. She scoffed at him.

And then, she walked out of the prestigious Niora Hospital, turning her back on her career.

"What will you do now?" a tiny voice squeaked at the back of her head.

Easy. She would become an adventurer, but first, she needed proper clothing.

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Tuore trekked groggily through the vast land between Henesys and Ellinia. His destination was of Nautilus Port- the grand capital of pirates. He could've easily taken a taxi there, but he found that walking helped to raise his level of alertness and helped to make him sober. Curiously, Tuore started to wonder if he passed out last night because he was drunk.

After making his way through the vibrant vegetation of Ellinia which assaulted him with their powerful shades of green, the countryside view of the lands of Henesys provided a much needed change of scenery. The land of Henesys was simply put, a Dickensian dream of the countryside.

Henesys had been founded by elves- firm believers of peace through diplomacy and abhorred violence- more than a few thousand years ago. As such, Henesys was the most peaceful town in Victoria Island.

The World of Maple had been split into three main continents, namely Maple Island, Victoria Island and lastly, the magnificent Ossyria. Rumors were that a long time ago, there was a grand battle between 5 legendary heroes and a legion of corrupted creatures- the widely feared Crimson Barlogs. The sheer intensity of the battle tore the gigantic piece of land into three pieces.

But of course, there were numerous other theories concerning the natural phenomenon. It could've been a meteor shower. The gods- if there were gods- could have shaped the world in their favour. So many explanations were offered, but a clear cut answer eluded the world.

Maple Island was for the mere beginners of the world, the only monsters that thrived there were those of extremely low power levels. As such, it was the perfect training ground for aspiring fighters.

On Victoria Island, there were seven main towns or cosmopolitan cities that were worthy of taking note of. Lith Harbour, the linkage between Maple Island and Victoria. Henesys, the proud town of the dexterous bowmen. Ellinia, the magical homeland of the arcane energy wielding Magicians. Perion, the dangerous mountain land that only those with the will of warriors could truly embrace as home. Kerning City, the bustling industrialized city that the shifty rogues loitered around. Nautilus Port, the town that housed the sea-loving pirates. And finally, Sleepywood, which was famous for the Ant-Tunnel- the single most dangerous area in the entire continent of Victoria due to the foul beasts that made the dank cavern their home.

Ossyria was an even more complicated area, with various cities and towns that housed the most powerful monsters that roamed the world. Only the fittest of the inhabitants of the world of Maple were allowed entry to Ossyria.

The look of each town or city differed greatly from one another, due to the contrasting ideologies of each class and the constraints of the environment. The vegetation that was so commonly seen in Ellinia, for example, would never be able to properly flourish in Perion due to the latter's lack of humidity and infertile soil.

Henesys had its own unique feel. It effortlessly attracted the largest diversity of Maplers over Victoria, farmers grew their crops in Henesys, beginners with their faces full of determination and ambition trained on the lower leveled monsters there, and the pros who had at least reached their second level of training used the various magic portals found in Henesys to challenge themselves against the more formidable beasts that resided in Henesys. As such, when Tuore began to approach Henesys, the scenery warped from the greenery of Ellinia to the more rural country-like Henesys.

However, Henesys was not his destination. Tuore was heading for the hotspot for pirates like him- Nautilus Port- which lay between Ellinia and Henesys. He was in dire need of advice from his mentor- the pirate instructor Kyrin- concerning an important decision he was about to undertake.

In no time, he had shaken off the grogginess that had plagued him. His senses fully sharpened from the years of arduous training, Tuore's sixth sense was constantly active. In the far off, he saw a couple of lone bowmen striking down slimes- which were cannon fodder creatures- with their newly acquired skills, yelping with exhilaration as they slayed the creatures. Tuore cracked a wry smile. It seemed not too long ago that he too was pitifully blasting the slimes with bullets while trying to gain more experience as an amateur pirate.

Looking around, Tuore realized that he had finally reached the famous forked road where he could access Nautilus Port. Without pause, he fluidly chose the path that led to the east. He had gotten so accustomed to the travel routes to his beloved hometown that he could probably find his way there blind. It would be a stupid experiment though.

Tuore got tired of strolling at a snail's pace. He focused his arcane energy for a split second, building up his potential energy. After reaching his forty ninth level of experience, and using that technique for over thirty levels, Tuore could be safely considered more than proficient in it.

"Dash!" Tuore willed himself, gathering his arcane energy at the balls of his feet. Skillfully manipulating the arcane energy to his feet, Tuore vigorously blasted off with his right foot. A surge of speed propelled him forward at an amazing speed. Tuore kept his body close to the ground, arms forcefully pumping up and down to facilitate movement. Using explosive sprinting, he dodged, leapt over, and in some instances even muscled his way through all obstacles to reach the entrance of Nautilus Port.

Acrobatic maneuvers were executed in near-perfect fashion, as Tuore hurdled over deep crevices and slipped under particularly protruding tree branches. He ended his "routine" breaking into a forward roll to cushion the impact of the ground, thus stopping his momentum. This drew a couple of "wows!" and hoots from the inexperienced beginners who were too making their way to Nautilus in order to become a pirate.

Paying them no heed, Tuore confidently pranced into the very core of Nautilus Port- the great _Nautilus _itself. _Nautilus_, to put in simple words, simply exuded grandeur. _Nautilus _was a gigantic submarine that was almost permanently docked, in the form of whale. The affluence of the original _Nautilus_ made it such that only the privileged could ride on it- it was meant to be the pinnacle of tourist attractions. However, on the day of the grand opening ceremony, pirates swarmed the ship and wrestled it out of the companies' control. And the rest, well, was history.

However, the once opulent _Nautilus _was now reduced to simply functioning as the headquarters for the pirate class. It wasn't necessarily something negative, as the legions of pirates that had suddenly invaded the carrier had brought a much needed tinge of spice in the peoples' lives.

The pirates had modified the exterior of the _Nautilus_ to reflect on the drastic change of ownership. The mark of a skull- the traditional symbol of pirates- had been proudly branded on the head of the whale, and large jewels were firmly attached to the body of the whale; daring any aggressors to assault and steal them. It was the way of the pirate- daring, blunt and above all, aggressive.

Once inside the submarine, Tuore inhaled deeply, taking in the salty taste of the ocean. A smile blossomed over his lips. He was home. True, the interior of the submarine was nowhere as splendid as its exterior, but to Tuore, it was home.

"Hey hey Kyrin!" Tuore flung open the rusty submarine door, revealing the stunning view of the captain's deck. Light gently shone into his eyes, revealing to him once again the splendor of the well-maintained captain's deck. The floor sparkled conceitedly, showing off the sheen of cleanliness that hung over it. And of course, the _crème le cream_ was the absolutely breathtaking view. A complete 180 degree view was provided on the captain's deck; the glass windows bore no tinge of polarization, leaving the scenery to showcase itself in all its natural beauty.

Next to the tiller stood the vain captain- Kyrin. An overbearing pirate hat flopped over her huge hair, threatening to fall over at a moment's notice. A classy amber fur coat hung around her shoulders proudly; the front was left open to show off her striking scarlet tube top and a short black miniskirt. She wore platform boots that rose up to her thighs,

"Hey Tuore! How's it going you craphound? Hair still as crap as ever huh?" Kyrin gave him a wolfish grin, baring her teeth. She was glad to see that her old pupil had came back to visit her.

Tuore scowled, ruffling his hair unconsciously. It was still a touchy issue for him. "Yeah well, actually I've come with something in mind. I need a favour." Tuore spoke indignantly. He hated to have to bother his mentor with such requests that were like baggage to her.

Kyrin immediately narrowed her eyes at him. "What kind of request do you speak of? Choose your words, for they may cost you dearly." She spoke dangerously.

Tuore was immediately taken aback. The tension in the room was rapidly escalating; it was reflected clearly as the onlookers started backing away from the two, the hostile mood triggering their sense of danger.

"I…want you to help look after my ship, _Mellow_. I'll be going off for a long assignment soon for the Enclave." Tuore replied emotionlessly. He knew that his mentor was prone to sudden mood swings, and as such it was best to remain neutral at times like these.

A huge grin plastered itself over Kyrin's face, spelling "TROUBLE" in block letters for Tuore. "Out of all the inhabitants in Maple, you want me to help you take care of your beloved ship?" she mocked him sardonically.

Tuore grit his teeth. Although he hated to admit it, his ex-mentor was the only person with the sufficient capabilities to properly care for _Mellow_. She, being the master of the pirate arts, was more than qualified to tend for his ship.

"We-ll, I require a teeny favour." Kyrin curried her voice into one that was dripping with innocence. "I need you to fetch 2000 cursed dolls for Rowen the Fairy. You should know her, she resides in Ellinia."

"Know her? I bleeding completed that quest that required gathering cursed dolls for her when nine levels ago! And now you want me to complete it all over again?" Tuore retorted, clearly annoyed.

"Lets put it this way." Kyrin's patience was too being stretched. "You will help me gather 2000 cursed dolls for Rowen by killing Zombie Lupins, or so help me, I will crash _Mellow_ into a coral reef!"

Tuore gave a resigned sigh. He simply had no choice. Nodding his head in resentfully, Tuore turned tail to leave, flinging to her the keys to _Mellow_.

"Tuore, wait." Kyrin's coarse voice sounded out, stopping Tuore in his tracks. "Are you still working for those control freaks…the Coalition?"

"They aren't control freaks. They're the government." With a swish of his ruby-red Toymaker's Cloak, Tuore turned his back on her.

Kyrin watched as her prized pupil treaded expeditiously out of the room. It seemed like it was only yesterday that he had came up to her, his eyes burning with passion to learn the way of the Gunslinger. As she had gazed upon the disheveled teenager of sixteen years, she had never once dreamt that he would master the art of the pirates so efficiently. He was, simply put, a _genius_. Why hadn't he specialized in a job?

On those nights when the moonlight splashed across the surface of the world, she sometimes caught glimpses of a melancholic Tuore sitting next to the lake, pensively staring into the night sky. Sometimes he cried, sometimes he didn't.

Answers to Kyrin's queries mysteriously eluded her, but a single fact remained certain- that Tuore was an extraordinary person. She doubted that having him on the side of the Coalition was favourable.

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At least i think these 2 chappies are better than the horrid beginning of Destiny Of Tears haha. Thanks for reading, and remember to review!

Cya guys,

Ccw.


	3. A troublesome errand

Sorry for the long wait guys. Been really busy, especially because i've taken up bboying on my own. Many thanks those who reviewed, enjoy reading and remember to review!

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**Chapter 2: A troublesome errand**

Razor coughed once, putting the Zombie Lupin out of its misery by blowing out its rotting brains. The poor creature collapsed onto the ground, gaping hole in its forehead and all, before promptly dissipating into a pile of cobalt dust and leaving behind a tiny doll. Tuore's left arm expertly swept up the cursed doll, immediately stuffing it into his backpack.

Thrusting his arm into the tiny pouch that hung on his belt, a swish of his arm sent half a dozen rounds of bullets scattering into the air, in the formation of a circle. Tuore spun into action, his thumb forcefully flicking the reloading chamber open. He vigorously swung Razor backwards, resulting in the ejection of the spent shells. Tuore narrowed his eyes, the immense concentration temporarily shutting off any external disruptions. Now! He lashed out with his left arm at the spray of bullets that were dangling in the air, his right clutching onto Razor such that the revolver was firmly facing downwards at ninety degrees.

Tuore's left arm snapped up, dexterous fingers clasping around a single bullet, before withdrawing his arm; briskly inserting the bullet into an empty chamber. Without hesitation, Tuore continued this flashy feat with mechanical precision, rapidly reloading Razor.

All went well until the fifth and sixth bullet slipped out of his grasp, softly falling onto the padded grass-covered surface of Ellinia. A frown materialized on Tuore's lips. He seemed to have collided with a glass ceiling- the only way he could properly master the technique was with greater speed. His movements and timing were close to perfect, but the lack of speed was an issue. Tuore took a couple of seconds to practice the snapping motion of his left elbow.

"Aoeahoeah…" A Zombie Lupin slurred, saliva drooping out of its gaping jaw as it hopped towards Tuore. Zombie Lupins were the result of necromancer arts- the forbidden dark techniques- put into actual practice. Lupins, who were cheeky monkeys with nastier bark than their bite, were desecrated with the darkness energy that Necromancers wielded. They were killed by the necromancers, before being resurrected as Zombie Lupins with the corrupted darkness energy. The corrupted Lupin bore a similar appearance to the original Lupin, except that its skin colour paled in comparison- like the colours had been drained- and for dark humour, a glowing halo gravitated above. The irony served as a grim reminder that the Lupins' soul was being held captive within the unholy body, doomed until they were released from their pain. Thankfully, they could be re-killed easily, by causing enough damage to the body.

Scooping up the pair of bullets on the ground with ease, Tuore finished reloading Razor in a matter of seconds.

He angled Razor towards the surprisingly agile Zombie Lupin and held his aim for a split-second, his mind racing to estimate its path of motion. A greater concentration of arcane energy from within Tuore's body rushed to his eyes and limbs; It was a passive skill of the pirate's.

Dubbed "Bullet Time", it was an apt name. The surge in arcane energy helped to boost further refine Tuore's already sharpened reflexes by significantly improving hand-eye coordination. The signals sent by the brain were greatly bolstered by the arcane energy acting as a catalyst, allowing for precision and accuracy with weapons and boosted reflexes.

Dash! Tuore activated the skill, mirroring the Zombie Lupin's movement by drastically exploding towards his left. Looking closely, he could see that it was actually flanked by two other Zombie Lupins, travelling closely together. He had just the tool for the job at hand.

"Invisible Shot!" Tuore fired repeatedly, sending six bullets whizzing towards their invisible shot skill bestowed upon him the ability to fire bullets at multiple targets in a relatively short amount of time, while of course preserving the deadly accuracy that made pirates second only to bowmen.

The bullets peppered the pitiful Zombie Lupins, head shots each searing holes in their undead flesh. There was a short pause of suspenseful silence, before Tuore heard three "thumps", signifying that three bodies had crashed onto the ground. Tuore smirked, savouring what little self induced conceitedness that he could muster from his minor victory.

Reloading Razor, Tuore made his way over to the dusty remnants of the Zombie Lupins. He started collecting the three cursed dolls lying on the ground, only to hear a high-pitched "Hey!" emitted nearby. Tuore looked around, only to see a female dressed in cleric robes hurriedly making her way towards him.

"That's never happened before. Usually, when they die, they stay quiet." Tuore remarked to no one in particular, keen to dismiss the fact that he now had a responsibility to engage her in a conversation.

"May I inquire where the training ground of Zombie Lupins lies?" She approached him carelessly. She had an air of sophistication surrounding her, like a princess of sorts.

Tuore glanced at her, carefully inspecting her appearance. The Blue Moonlight overall which embraced her slender figure was clean. In fact, it was too clean, not even a single speck of dirt or stain could be found on it. This meant that she was either a hygiene-freak, or had just purchased it. Tuore suspected that both qualities rang true.

"Hey! I was talking to you!" She harassed Tuore, her hands on her hips.

"Don't get your underwear in a knot, princess." Tuore finished packing the dolls into his backpack, rising to his feet. He reluctantly turned to face her.

"You're standing on it right now." He held back the temptation to deride her. It was ironic that she was blind to what she was looking for.

"That's nonsense!" She yelled irately, her face flashing a dangerous red. "If the training ground were here, wouldn't I have noticed Zombie Lupins in the vicinity?"

"Quiet!" Tuore snarled with authority. "You're going to attract them in packs!"

"Attract who?" The female cleric raised her voice even higher. "There aren't any Zombie Lupins here!" She shouted exasperatedly.

"Aoeahoeah…" The dreaded moaning of the Zombie Lupins sounded out in the dense forests of Ellinia. Tuore swore, unholstering Razor.

"What's going on?" The fury that had previously manifested itself in the female cleric had dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of dread.

"We-ll, princess. You've just attracted the attention of several packs of Zombie Lupins. Nothing much really." Tuore's voice dripped with sarcasm, as he expertly checked his equipment. At least everything was in order. His supply of Mighty Bullets- bullets that were superior to the ordinary bullets that he was currently using- lay in a secret compartment of his waist pouch, to be used in severely dangerous situations.

"What do I do? I can't handle several packs of Zombie Lupins! I'm only level forty-four!" The female cleric began breaking down, suddenly storming about in a circle.

Tuore watched with faint amusement. Where had that confidence, that air of superiority gone to?

"Just heal me. And if possible, release a couple of Holy Arrows- undead creatures like Zombie Lupins are vulnerable to holy magic. If all goes well, you'll live through this, princess." Tuore frolicked around, spinning Razor around his thumb.

"And if it doesn't?"

"That's a nice attempt at a joke, princess."

"I'm Syelle."

The horrid moans of the undead surrounded them, the stench of rotting flesh permeating the air. Tuore and Syelle melded into the back-to-back formation, each covering each other's blind spots; Tuore following any sudden movements by tracing them with Razor, and Syelle timidly holding out her Fairy Wand.

Tuore's senses were well into overdrive, any sudden movements- be it a rustle in the bushes, the crackling of dry leaves-, were immediately picked up. Without warning, Tuore's sixth sense of danger prickled violently.

"Break away!" Tuore shoved Syelle away from him while simultaneously utilising the Dash skill to explode in the opposite direction.

A split-second later, the area they were previously occupied was smashed to smithereens by a sudden barrage of projectiles. The projectiles were bananas, to be exact.

Comical as it may sound, the bananas that Zombie Lupins and ordinary Lupins used were completely different from normal bananas. The saliva of the Lupins hardened the normally soft flesh of the fruit, imbuing it with the hardened quality of stone. When Zombie Lupins arised, their saliva was even deadlier, thus making the bananas even more dangerous.

"Stay close and cover my six!" Tuore bellowed, dashing towards the origin of the attack.

"What?"

"Just follow me and cover my back damnit!"

Tuore grimaced. He was not skilled enough to fight efficiently while protecting the girl. He would just have to cross his fingers that Syelle could fend for herself.

"Invisible Shot!" Tuore leapt onto a branch, simultaneously squeezing the trigger multiple times, as Razor unloaded 3 bullets which rammed deep into the chest of a pair of Zombie Lupins, transforming it into ashes.

His bullet time bristled slightly, and Tuore took a flying leap off the branch that he previously stood. It exploded into shreds as bananas tore it apart mere moments later.

Riding his momentum, Tuore soared through the air, while consciously suppressing the animal instinct that radiated fear within him. Angling his body, he caught sight of a Zombie Lupin far away- high up in the canopy layer of trees-, raising its arm and getting ready to fling a banana at him.

"Double Shot!" It was without hesitation that Tuore unleashed two bullets imbued with arcane energy towards the Lupin. By injecting his arcane energy into the bullets – as he had previously done with Invisible Shot-, Tuore granted his bullets the additional power that was needed to tear through enemies with relative ease. Fusing technology with ancient arts of magic proved to have a more than satisfactory outcome- with elemental bullets for an example-, and various other perks.

The first bullet hit the Zombie Lupin's left wrist- the one that was holding onto the banana- with such force that the bones shattered. The second mercilessly blew its chin into gruesome bits of flesh and blood.

With slight room to breathe, Tuore dared to shoot a glance at Syelle.

"Holy…Arrow!" Her Fairy Wand sprouted strands of glowing white light that formed the general shape of a bow. A holy arrow materialized, nocked to the bow, strongly emanating power. Syelle's nimble fingers momentarily held the pent-up tension, before releasing it. The transient projectile ejected from the bow, spearing through the head of a Zombie Lupin.

Instead of stopping there, the holy arrow, assisted with the extra power Syelle had invested into it, actually riding its own momentum, passed through the hardened undead skull. It buried itself into the heart of a separate Zombie Lupin that was inches away from the arrow's first victim. Both creatures sprawled to the floor, death claiming them before they could make a single sound.

Satisfied with her performance, Tuore directed his attention to self-preservation.

A Zombie Lupin tried to spring a surprise on Tuore, emerging from behind him and vehemently flinging a banana at him.

Tuore saw the projectile, and tried to dodge it by using a quick dash to the side. However, he felt the sharp pain of contact as he _felt_ the banana smash his right wrist- the one wielding Razor.

Razor was sent spiraling downwards, and Tuore allowed himself to _fall off the branch_ in pursuit of it. His arms spread wide like an eagle, he plummeted towards the ground.

As he predicted, the Zombie Lupin chased him aggressively, mimicking his actions- diving down-, in order to finish Tuore off.

Without a trace of panic or fear, he calmly stretched out his left arm, grasping for Razor. Remaining serene in the face of a tumultuous situation was something that required immense self-discipline.

The Zombie Lupin was nearing. With his Bullet Time in overdrive, Tuore felt the creature's presence draw ever closer.

And then he saw the dreaded undead show up in his sights; it was sadistically grinning at him. At the same moment, Tuore's fingers hooked onto the trigger of Razor.

With a swift, precise motion, Tuore drew Razor up slightly, while still preserving its ninety degrees angle towards the ground. Simultaneously, Tuore locked his teeth in a painful grimace as his right arm shot out, grabbing the Zombie Lupin by the throat and shoving it right into the path of Razor.

"Recoil Shot." Tuore ordered without emotion, as the undead's delighted expression warped to one of shock.

A bullet packed with his innermost arcane energy erupted from the gun barrel of Razor, and shattered the Zombie Lupin's skull by going through the dead centre of its forehead.

Meanwhile, Tuore steadied himself. He knew what was going to come next.

The recoil of _Recoil Shot_ was used as a tool to get out of unfavourable situations. In this case, Tuore had to solve the problem of plunging head-first towards the hard, unforgiving ground. The ground may have comprised of thick layers of grass, but Tuore wasn't taking any chances. He didn't care much for showy displays.

The recoil of the shot kicked violently against Razor, the raw energy feedback rapidly decreasing Tuore's downwards momentum. Holding on to his revolver for dear life, Tuore knew that Razor- like in so many situations before-, was his ticket to getting out alive.

By some incredible stroke of luck, the recoil proved to be a perfect foil to gravity- the opposing forces were just enough to cancel each other out completely. Tuore landed softly on the comfortable grass, his left arm carefully cradling his right wrist in order to minimise the impact.

This situation was rare- he was actually in pretty deep shit. It was one of the few times he had to rely on his ambidextrous-ity.

Looking down at his wrist, Tuore frowned in frustration- not from the pain, but from the inconvenience that his broken wrist would bring. The skin of the wrist bone had torn straight off, leaving a sharp splinter of bone sticking out of the flesh. Tuore concentrated his arcane energy on the wound, preparing to temporarily shut off his mind from the wringing pain, when green magic that bore an uncanny resemblance to the spell "Heal" splashed over his right wrist.

Tuore's normally composed mood skipped a beat as he saw, and felt, the soothing emerald green gently push his bones into place and efficiently stitching up the dozens of minor cuts and bleedings.

Looking up, he saw Syelle running towards him, wand outstretched.

"No time for thanks." The bubble of a thought surfaced in his mind, as Tuore noticed two Zombie Lupins darting dangerously close to Syelle.

Tuore flicked open the chamber of Razor, hastily emptying the empty rounds- letting them bounce softly on the soft grass.

He had barely finished reloading Razor, when the two Zombie Lupins exploded into flashes of holy light.

Tuore shot Syelle an approving nod, to which she smiled sheepishly in response.

The relaxing mood was forcefully blown apart by Tuore's Bullet Time sixth sense reverberating violently within him. Immediately, Tuore went back to back with Syelle.

Tuore jerked Razor from side to side, trying to survey the hidden dangers. "Come on…what could be so precarious that it registers a magnitude seven on the danger scale?" Tuore unknowingly muttered out loud, not taking his eyes off the environment.

And then he saw them. The Zombie Lupins were carefully camouflaged in dense greenery- leaves, shrubs, and bushes.

Something was amiss. They seemed to be hesitating.

"Syelle. Do you see them?"

"Yeah."

"How many on your side? I estimate I have about ten here."

"About seven."

Tuore gritted his teeth. He sensed more…many more. And among the numbers that he could not see, he sensed an enormous power that rivalled his own nearby. What made matters worse was that the power was full of malice…and life-force radiated strongly from it.

"Hey. Show yourself." Tuore demanded, his fingers beckoning in the general direction of the power he sensed.

There was a single cough, and Tuore swivelled to its origin; he found himself looking directly at the dark, shaded trunk of a tree.

He saw the air shimmer for a split second, and watched with amazement as it unveiled the lone figure of a woman dressed in a worn out mahogany cloak. It was like the air had peeled off to reveal her presence.

"Don't look so surprised hon. Even a child necromancer has the ability to meld into the darkness." The woman's voice was sweet and seductive.

"Who in the world are you?" Tuore continued unflinchingly.

"Esteyu Miner. Just call me Em. I'm your examiner for your unofficial performance evaluation. Have you been studying?" She giggled irritatingly, reminding Tuore of the whiny laughs of schoolgirls.

"Nonsense. I graduated from Maple Tech with top honours. In other words, I received TWO gold star stickers from my teacher-in-charge." Tuore retorted proudly.

Meanwhile, Syelle sighed at the inherent stupidity of the two characters.

"Jokes aside…" Tuore suddenly declared, warping the atmosphere back to a solemn one. "What is this performance evaluation you refer to?"

Em simply put her index finger to her lips- the universal sign for silence-, and allowed herself to be enveloped by the darkness, her body seemingly disintegrating into nothingness.

Anticipating the move, Tuore was already in action. Utilising "Double Shot", two bullets were whizzing through the air barely half a second after Em started disappearing from sight- their accuracy dead set towards Em's neck, their intention made clear by the killing intent Tuore infused in them in the form of his arcane energy.

"The Archlord's Rejection." Em's voice was barely a whisper, both of her arms fully extended, palms facing outwards towards Tuore.

A jet black shield appeared unexpectedly; an entire load of darkness energy sprouted out from Em's palms to form the materialised weapon.

Both sides watched as the two opposing forces clashed, the bullets impacted the shield and…promptly stopped their motion, peacefully imbedded in the perfectly oval shield.

Tuore was taken aback. The momentum of his offense was dispelled like it was a child's.

"My turn." Em flicked both index fingers of her hands, prompting a ripple to pass through the arcane shield- sending the two bullets rocketing towards Tuore.

Tuore forced his Bullet time into overdrive, as he steadily took aim. The feat he was about to perform demanded absolute accuracy and precision. "Invisible Shot!" He muttered with determination, as Razor's muzzle flashed thrice.

It was with a tiny "clang" that bullets from both sides met each other, the raw impact smashing each to pieces. A lone bullet, Tuore's third shot, travelled past the mayhem, swerving towards Em's left foot.

Spotting the threat, Em shifted her left arm- resulting in the dark mass of energy getting halved. While one half remained at its original spot, the other magically appeared where Em had shifted her arm to in order to protect against Tuore's attack. The bullet smashed against the shield before unspectacularly crashing onto the ground.

She focused her gaze unto Tuore, a huge grin spreading from the corner of her lips, expecting to see a look of frustration, or even bewilderment from the young man. Instead, she found herself looking straight into a young man with a ridiculously large grin plastered across his face.

"Check." Tuore chortled. "I see how your shield works now- you have a limited amount of surface area that your shield can cover doesn't it?"

Em remained silent, her face a complete mask, not betraying her inner emotions.

"Game on. Syelle." He turned to face the female cleric, who truthfully, had been feeling slightly left out. "I need you to enchant my bullets with your light elemental mana." To which she nodded eagerly.

"Tesla Lockage!" Tuore suddenly flooded Razor with his mana. The weapon surged with the sudden influx of arcane energy, before settling down, the revolver crackling with new-found power.

Tuore wasted no time in reloading. Tesla Lockage was a term he coined, using his arcane energy to kick Razor into overdrive. This meant that Razor now had a huge leap in terms of firing rate and projectile velocity.

However, Tesla Lockage could only be enabled while Tuore still had arcane energy to feed Razor. If he went "dry", then the enhanced Razor would be forced to revert back to its original form.

Syelle spent a few precious moments being enthralled by the stunning sight of the sizzling weapon, before snapping out of her trance. Forming a tiny holy arrow, she shot it directly into the cylinder of Razor.

Tuore brought his revolver to bear, straight at Em. The Mighty Bullets were fully locked and loaded.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

He hated the rain. Ranging from the light pitter-patter of gentle rain drops on grass to the furious assault of fast, hard impact against the concrete, he hated it all.

Whenever it rained, it dulled his senses- making him more vulnerable, more susceptible to attacks. That was never a good thing.

These meandering thoughts came to him as he walked down the empty hallway, blissfully sheltered from the pelting rain outside.

He stretched his long arms high in the air, enjoying the crisp feeling of his muscles tensing up. Out of habit, he touched the impressive Serpent's Tongue that hung onto his back in a sheath.

The spear was coloured a wicked scarlet red, like it had been dipped in the blood of animals and forged in hell. Its design was simple, yet striking- a simple handle with a crooked tip.

His spear always provided a sense of security for the Spearman. Even in the confines of the Coalition's headquarters, he certainly did not feel safe.

The Coalition was the _de facto_ corporation in the world of Maple- its sphere of influence extended throughout almost every committee, groups and individuals. They operated through headquarters- the location was not revealed to the public.

The Coalition was a military government in charge of ensuring safety and order across the world. What used to be the responsibility of various governing bodies slowly became solely the Coalition's, as it expanded its political power aggressively, swallowing up the other corporations.

Unification of the country, they called it. Personally, he felt it was just a thinly veiled excuse to gain power.

However, he had to admit that The Coalition did a pretty good job of keeping the peace. The only threat to the security of the people, they claimed, was the rebels- the Outcasts. Which was coincidentally the reason why he had been summoned before the Board.

It wasn't as if he actually had a choice.

The Board, as the name suggested, consisted of a select few members. They were the ruling bodies of The Coalition, and held the highest rank.

They were called…The Elders. Below the Elders were various positions of power, followed by the Squad Leaders and the Administrators. While the Administrator's roles were self explanatory, the Squad Leaders each headed specific divisions of manpower.

Before long, he had reached his supervisor's office. He took a deep breath, pushing open the creamy brown maple door that had the sign "4th Squad Captain".

The all familiar decorations of the room welcomed him warmly, the boxes filled with various medals of accomplishment were set against the walls in addition to certificates of achievement, all seemed to proudly emanate glory.

"4th Squad 1st Seat Draco Tugar reporting for duty." Draco focused on his supervisor, who was merrily poking about the artificial fireplace.

"Good god. What took you so long, reptile?" The voice was distinctly female, sounding rather irritated, as she whirled about in her chair.

She was just as he had remembered her. Five foot six. A bright yellow ribbon clung in her long, smooth flowing cerulean hair, complementing the colour perfectly. A pair of tiny rimless spectacles, looking more of accessories to her style of fashion rather than being of actual use, sat snugly atop of her gentle button nose. A pout was plastered firmly on her chubby face, giving one the impression that she was just a small child throwing a tantrum.

However, her looks were a direct foil to her personality and raw talents. The apprentice to the Grendel's most promising student, she quickly made a name for herself by serving the cause of the Coalition. She headed her comrades in quelling uprisings, protecting the weak, keeping the land safe from dangerous monsters, and in the process, rose to become a captain.

Her name? Elywn Castro.

"Don't call me a reptile…" Draco muttered indignantly, his hands firmly in his pockets- a sign that he was upset.

"Well, its not my fault that Draco invokes pictures of dragons and lizards in my mind! Now sit down, please." Elywn gestured towards the empty seat across her desk.

Draco kindly declined with a swift gesture of his hand, choosing instead to stand, much to the annoyance of Elywn.

" Ever so formal aren't you… Never mind. I have called you here today in order to discuss a matter with you. The been much more…proactive in their campaigns against the Coalition lately."

"What would you have me do?"

"Take them down of course. You will be assigned a new partner."

"What!" The normally placid Draco slammed his fist against the hardwood desk. "I don't need a partner!"

"It's protocol." Her calm baby blues fixed themselves firmly onto Draco. "Not to mention, that I'm _ordering_ you to."

"I said, I. Don't. Need. A. Partner." Draco growled, bringing his face close to his superior.

"I know Yoka's death affected you badly. I'm telling you now, deal with it." Instead of flinching, the gutsy Fire/ Poison magician narrowed the distance between them.

The outburst of emotions by Draco lingered for a few moments…before he grudgingly backed down. "My orders?"

"None so far. We will be matching you up with the most suitable candidate. Just sit tight and wait. You may go now."

Just as Draco opened the door to exit her office, Elwyn's voice startlingly interceded, "It wasn't your fault."

He paused for half a heartbeat, before lightly closing the door behind him.

He took a single step, the sound of his boots against marble reverberating.

"It was." He thought bitterly. "It was."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thats all for this time. I've really no idea when the next update will come, but stay tuned! Remember to review as it gives me inspiration haha.

See ya.

Ccw.


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